


A Villain's Ending

by MindscapeWish



Category: Original Work
Genre: 1920s slang, CHESS PLAYING, Eye Horror, Gen, Star Gazing, depictions of violence, technically a Gravity Falls AU but too original to be considered fanfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:14:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25478995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindscapeWish/pseuds/MindscapeWish
Summary: Artemis tells Boy a story over chess.
Kudos: 3





	A Villain's Ending

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

Artemis knew this. He’d read the books, seen the movies, heard the music, and listened to the chatter among society.

Heroes always won and villains never got happy endings. Good always overtook evil and there was nothing to change that. 

Artemis never thought of himself as evil, per say. Morally ambiguous or ‘chaotic neutral,’ as some dice-obsessed groups said, fit him a little better. However, if you weren’t specifically good, you might as well be evil. Malicious, callous, nefarious. You might as well be a villain.

Artemis found the two forces pit against each other almost nostalgic. One was bright and blinding, full of life, gold, good fortune, and fame. The other was drowned in underground tunnels, the dark of night, and permanent promises. Diane versus him. He missed Diane.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

Artemis blinked, staring down on the chess board in front of him. His chin rested on his palm, body leaning to the right in his chair in a leisurely, nonchalant manner. Boy sat across from him, stringy blonde hair falling over his eyes and toothy, childish smile.

“What are you looking at?” Artemis questioned. He glanced up to the other across from him. The way Boy’s bright hair contrasted against the pitch black, starry sky was almost angelic. However, they both knew he was far from angelic.

“Lookin’ at you, moron!” Boy cackled and leaned back in his chair. “I’m waitin’ for you to move! You’ve been starin’ at your piece like a sap.”

Artemis looked back down, lowering his free hand onto a piece. “If you would simply be patient, maybe we’ll get somewhere,” he tittered. 

They’d been at a stalemate for a good while and as always, Boy filled the silence with chatter. It was a common situation they found themselves in-- head to head and just waiting for the one wrong move. Artemis quickly met his match once Boy got the hang of it. It became a comfort, actually, with how much they played together.

“Patience is for chumps.” Boy lifted a leg, his foot on his chair and leg pulled up to his chest. He leaned his arm on his knee. “C’mon, tell me a story.”

“You will have to be more specific.” Artemis had many stories. He had ones that failed to make sense, some that sounded fake, some that weren’t even in this universe. Admittedly, most of them weren’t very feel-good.

Boy looked straight into Artemis’s eyes, his toothy grin widening and taking on a less than innocent look. “Tell me  _ the _ story. Where you bumped ‘em all off.”

Oh,  _ that _ one. It was both of their favorites. No matter how many times Artemis recalled the warmth of blood on his hands, he still felt the thrill pumping through his veins. He’d do it all over again if he could to finally taste the justice again. Granted it ended in his banishment, his… separation from Diane… but if he ignored the consequences, he could revel in the power.  _ Finally _ he got the attention he deserved, the praise. Artemis would never be ignored again.

Boy never got sick of Artemis’s retellings of the story. Actually, he was  _ fascinated. _ He’d fantasized on his own of taking revenge on those who had wronged him and how good it would be to finally have the upper hand. No longer were the days of Boy being chased off and cussed at or weapons be drawn on his skin. He’d be powerful, respected. He’d be a  _ god. _

At least, that was what Boy rambled before. Artemis remembered vividly.

Artemis moved one knight piece, stealing one of Boy’s bishops and leaving him right next to his king. He set the piece into his collection and when he looked back up, his grin matched Boy’s. The only difference was whereas Boy’s was mischievous, his own was unhinged. The corners of his lips seemed to slice his face.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

“The first bastard’s eyes were colder than I expected from a dying man, but the blood leaking out at the back of them warmed my fingers up.” Artemis pulled away from the table, his fingers flexing as he remembered the sensation. The familiar memories washed over his body. He felt Boy’s eager eyes on him. The board was abandoned momentarily.

“I started with the first people I saw. Some of them ran but I caught them nonetheless. The way they screamed was almost funny because they sounded like…” Artemis pursed his lips in thought. “Someone would come to their rescue. As if the day would come back in a flash and expose my misdeeds.” He gave a dry chuckle.

Both of them knew there were things Artemis would never tell Boy. It wasn’t hard to see that Artemis had a questionable past-- the fact that he had this story to tell was evidence of that. Occasionally Artemis noticed Boy staring too hard and calculating to simply be gazing.

“I would press my thumbs in,” Artemis mimicked the motion to thin air, eyes glazed over in deep memory, “and their eyes would give, like they were about to pop. It was annoying whenever they struggled too much to get a good grip, however, so I bashed their skulls on the concrete first to incapacitate them. Their blood ran rivers on the stone and sometimes I could  _ taste _ it. First I started at the inner corners where the tear ducts were and  _ pried. _ ” He grinned to himself. “Granted they were crying, but tears make everything easier, right? Less stuck and sticky.”

Artemis’s body language visibly became sporadic in a way that was usually completely unlike him. He twitched and his breaths came in quicker pants in the sick excitement. He shifted to the edge of his seat, ready to shoot up. His voice pitched higher too, something unbridled seeping through his usual stoic exterior.

“And I’d  _ yank _ . The first few people I killed were a bit of trial and error, but I perfected my skill. Their eyes popped out of their sockets, dangling from the optic nerves, and by then they were going into shock. The nerve tore with a wet snap.” Artemis damn near giggled. “I would say I saw life leave their eyes, but their bodies squirmed for much longer than just that. Sometimes I kept the eyes, especially of important people, as a souvenir.”

A souvenir of his victory over those who shackled him. They never saw Artemis for his true potential, his worth, his  _ brilliance, _ so they were blinded to never see anything again. Each eye was kept in a special jar.

Artemis blinked, staring out way beyond Boy’s form into the darkness. He just vaguely picked up on the brimming curiosity from the other.

“Other times I left the eyes to the crows to eat. They are vicious. From there… I continued killing. They deserved what they got, so why would I not stop? Some real justice was served-- so why didn’t--” Why didn’t Diane realize that? Artemis paused and swallowed. He cleared his throat.  _ No, no, not now. You are telling a victory. Not a sob story. _ “Gouging out eyes was my favorite method, but I was not adverse to others. Those who ran down empty alleys were beaten with whatever I could find. Once I used a metal gutter tube.” Now,  _ that _ was fun.

“The first night I did my spree was more out of blind anger and vengeance than anything. However, the upcoming days I had plans. Each person who deserved it got a personalized demise fit for their crime.”

Artemis looked Boy straight in the eyes for the first time in several minutes. He saw him jolt faintly.   


“Do you know what was so delicious about it all?” Artemis asked him, leaning onto his forearms. The table’s chill seeped through his cuffs and sleeves. “The power. Having someone who was completely horrendous to you, who ignored and scorned you, quivering and sobbing beneath you while you keep them on the ground and steal their life? It is invigorating. If you experienced it with me, you would know it is so addictive I nearly could not stop myself-- but mind you, I never… went on a frenzy. These things take precision. I regret not one thing.”

Boy’s expression resembled a young pupil learning from their mentor. Artemis felt a vague sense of pride welling within his chest. They were equals, however he was occasionally reminded of how young Boy was.

Artemis licked his lips and continued on with his story.

“During the day, it took all of my power to not laugh when I was informed about the murders happening in my care. It was not hard to masquerade as clueless, though. Play dumb, offer no details or constructive thought outside of basic connections a toddler could produce. I nearly got away with it.”

Artemis’s expression darkened, his lips pressed into a thin line. The fingers that had been flexing clenched into a tight fist.

“Almost. They found me eventually. I had been licking the blood off a knife after plunging it into a woman’s bosom.” His voice hardened. “Bodies laid strewn across the concrete-- all of my hard work, my justice, my  _ rightful _ retaliation. Diane was stunned. Speechless.”

Boy never asked who Diane was.

“She’d rather be caught dead,” Boy quipped. The tension that had built up in the room so thick they could cut it suddenly popped. Artemis blinked and laughed, bringing Boy across from him into some chuckles too. What an awful joke.

“I suppose you could say that.” Artemis sat up straight as if he were wiping clean his slate and the past several minutes. “It is your turn.”

“I know, I know, moron,” Boy grumbled. He shoved some hair out of his eyes and stared down at the board. His fingers twitched alongside his thought processes, slowly reaching out to certain pieces he considered using.

Artemis thought to himself while Boy worked about how similar they were to each other. Boy had been a mere stray on the streets, unlike anyone else and closed off. When Artemis took him under his wing and raised him as something of his own, Boy’s inner character came out. They became more like equals.

The both of them had been wronged, whether by one person or a whole group. They both craved vengeance and bloodshed, morals skewed and nearly entirely matching. Boy was intelligent and quick witted, yet calming to Artemis’s raging fire hidden by a musing mad hatter guise.

Boy made his move. Without a second thought, Artemis shot his hand out, moved his knight, and stole Boy’s king. He looked up to Boy with an intensely smug smirk, eyes crinkling.

“I win.”

Boy’s eyes widened and he looked down to see a blaring lapse in his judgement of how to proceed. He laughed and gave Artemis a lopsided grin, leaning back in his chair.

“I guess y’did. It’s jake.”

“Do not worry,” Artemis teased, reaching a hand out to Boy’s on the table. “You will be my rival soon enough.” The both of them laughed heartily.

Artemis looked back up to the sky and watched all of the stars. Looking up to the sky, towards his old home, was an habit that he could never quite kick-- well, he didn’t care to, more like. The pitch black sky was a reminder of who he used to be and who his opposite was: Diane, bright and worshipped as ever.

It reminded him of his downfall. He didn’t care about being judged, but of  _ failing _ , yes. Of everything he’d done wrong but never cared to feel guilty for besides certain rare moments. Artemis had failed to succeed in catching the public’s eye, failed at hiding, failed at getting away, and failed at being a brother for Diane.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

Artemis failed at saving Boy. Boy died a gruesome, mortifying death, where he was ripped to shreds and burnt alive. Boy didn’t deserve the terror and he didn’t deserve to go out that way. Artemis’s mistake of letting him into the mafia was one that he would never forget and always regret.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings and Boy was dead. _

So why was he sitting right across from him?

Artemis’s head snapped back down to Boy across from him, only to see something entirely different than he remembered.

Boy’s body was decayed on one side and pieced together in a zombie-like fashion on the other. His skin was pale and ashy, eyes dead and glazed over. Blood and viscera dripped out of the decaying half of his body and the other half was falling apart at the seams, tearing and twisting. His hair matted in dried blood and dirt, part of his brain exposed.

Boy’s face matched the last expression Artemis had seen before he died. His lips were parted in a scream and eyes as wide as saucers, pure liquid terror and concern coating his features.

Panicked adrenaline filled Artemis’s veins. He blinked.

Boy was gone.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

Right. None of this was real. Artemis’s hopes and dreams were getting far too away from him now, weren’t they? Boy would always be dead. He’d never be able to play another game of chess with him or tell him another story, teach him magic tricks or laugh. Artemis broke twice in his life and each one was because of his own misdoings.

Disappointment and sickening guilt that Artemis had long grown used to settled in his gut. It filled his chest and constricted his lungs, making it sting, almost as if it was tangible and mixing with stardust.

_ Villains don’t get happy endings. _

Artemis lifted a hand and grasped the chess piece dangling from his neck. He looked back to the stars.

_ It looked like he was the villain to his own story all along. _

**Author's Note:**

> This was a special request by a friend of mine, not-a-wonderful-wonderland (tumblr)! I love their OCs so much, very tasty backstory too. I had a lot of fun working with this prompt and putting my own spin to it.
> 
> If you want to see more, consider checking out my tumblr! mindscapewish-writes
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Let me know what you thought in the comments!


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